Not Gonna Leave You
by Let's-Go-Be-The-Good-Guys
Summary: "I know things got dicey. Y'know, with Dad. The way he was. And I just... I didn't always look out for you the way that I should've. In order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes when I was - when I was away... you know it wasn't just 'cause I ran out, right? Dad would send me away when I really pissed him off."
1. Chapter 1

The Impala slid into the motel parking lot at a dangerous speed. John was angry. Dean flinched as John slammed the car into park.

"Go inside right now," John said, voice dangerously low.

Dean glanced at his little brother in the backseat. Sam's eyes were rimmed with red and Dean knew he had been trying not to cry. All three Winchesters got out of the car. Sam slammed his door shut and stormed towards the motel, ignoring the glare that John sent at the back of his head. Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. He hated it when Sam and John fought. Instead of following Sam immediately, Dean walked to the back of the car where John was unpacking the trunk.

"Why-" Dean swallowed down the tremor in his voice. "Why do you have to be so hard on him?"

John looked at Dean, his eyes steely with anger. "Excuse me?"

"He's just a kid."

"If I wanted your opinion, Dean, I'd ask for it," John spat.

"You have to know he gets scared. He's scared of you!" Dean's voice was climbing higher in his desperation.

John took a step towards Dean and the boy backed away. "You had better get away from me, Dean. Right now."

Dean blinked harshly and turned towards the motel.

"No," John said. Dean stopped. "I don't want to see your face. Get out of here."

Dean's heart twisted. _Not again_. One glance back at John and Dean knew it would be too dangerous to argue. He started walking away, hands shaking. More than anything, he wanted to tell Sam that he would come back as soon as he could. _Be careful, Sam._

Dean found himself wandering into an arcade a few blocks from their motel. He stuck a couple of quarters in one of the machines, but his heart wasn't in it. He kept worrying about Sam. Dean hoped Sam had been smart and kept his mouth shut. But his little brother was so hot-headed. Dean was scared of what John might do if Sam tried to pick the argument back up. And Dean wasn't there to protect him. Dean slammed a fist into the arcade machine as he lost another life. _Why did I have to say anything? I should be there for Sam._

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It had only been about an hour since John had sent him away. It was definitely too soon to go back. But Dean couldn't think of anywhere else to go. He wandered out of the arcade and started walking with no direction in mind. In another hour, he found himself headed in the direction of the motel. He knew it was still dangerous to go back. But he was also terrified that maybe John had gone to a bar and left Sam alone. The thought of Sam alone in the motel was somehow worse than the thought of him being with John. As he neared the motel, he saw the Impala. John hadn't left. Dean hesitated.

Then the memory of Sam's angry voice from his fight with John earlier was in his head.

_"You don't care about me! You never have! I hate you!"_

Dean walked to their room and opened the door quietly. He glanced in and spotted John first. He was sprawled out on his bed, snoring. On the nightstand next to him were a couple of empty bottles of beer. Dean sighed and stepped softly into the room, gaze settling on Sam. Dean's heart sank when Sam refused to look at him. He was sitting on the other bed, staring at the TV. The TV was muted, a commercial for cereal playing on the screen. Sam had his legs bent up against his chest, chin resting on his knees. Dean walked over to him. "Hey, Sam." Sam still wouldn't look at him. "C'mon, man. Don't be mad at me."

Sam had to know that Dean would have rather died than leave him. Dean sat down next to Sam on the bed, mimicking Sam's position, pulling his knees up to his chest. Dean was prepared to sit like that all night waiting for Sam to say something to him. But then Sam sniffled softly. And Dean's heart broke.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said, words rushing out. "I came back as soon as I could. Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

Sam looked at Dean then, dropping his legs down on the bed. His face was puffy and red, his curls falling into his eyes. Now Dean could see the bruise on Sam's cheek, purple and angry, marring his smooth skin.

Dean swore. He smoothed a hand through Sam's hair, pushing it out of his face. "Sammy, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sam whimpered softly, "It's okay, Dean. It's not your fault."

But Sam was wrong. It was Dean's fault. If he hadn't tried to confront their dad, he wouldn't have been sent away. He would have been there to calm Sam down. To keep him from saying whatever he did that made John angry enough to - Dean pulled Sam into a quick hug so that his little brother wouldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes. _Never again_. Dean was going to do whatever it took to stay with Sam. He would bite his tongue when their dad was being unreasonable if that's what he had to do. He couldn't be ripped from his little brother again. He couldn't do it. He had to protect him.

"I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. _Ever_."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam would have sworn his blood was literally boiling. He glared at the back of his father's head, his unblinking eyes burning. Sam could see Dean glancing back at him occasionally. But he refused to look at his brother. _He'll take Dad's side. He always does._

They were driving in the Impala after a hunt. Dean had been hurt badly. Sam could still hear the horrifying _thud_ of Dean being thrown into the wall. Dean's scream as the werewolf dug its claws into Dean's arm. Sam's blood had run cold and he ran towards Dean, calling his brother's name. A shot rang out and the werewolf fell on the ground, dead. John hurried towards Dean, silver bullet-filled pistol still in hand. Sam beat him to Dean's side.

"Dean?" Sam felt stupid as his voice shook.

"I'm okay, Sam. Help me sit up."

Sam helped prop Dean up against the wall. Dean inhaled sharply through his teeth at the movement. Sam flinched as he took a closer look at Dean's arm.

"You alright, son?" John asked as he knelt across from Sam on Dean's other side, inspecting the ripped flesh of Dean's arm.

"Yeah, I'm-"

"Of course he's not!" Sam yelled, cutting off Dean's words. "He almost died, Dad. I told you we needed to stake this place out another day! We could have known that there was another werewolf here. We could have been prepared!"

John stared at Sam evenly.

"Sam, don't," Dean said weakly. "I shoulda been more careful. That werewolf really got the drop on me."

Sam made eye contact with Dean. Dean's eyes were becoming glazed with pain. Sam blinked back tears. _Why do you always defend him, Dean? He could have gotten you killed. What would I have done-?_

They had bandaged up Dean's arm and helped him out to the car. "Probably gonna need stitches when we get back to the hotel," John had said. He made eye contact with Sam right before getting into the driver's seat. Sam made sure his dad could see all of the anger in his eyes.

Now they had been driving in silence for a few minutes. Dean's worried glances were starting to get under Sam's skin. Dean knew Sam was itching to say something more. To tell John exactly what he was thinking.

When they made it back to the hotel, John parked in a relatively out-of-sight corner of the parking lot.

"Sure, park as far away from the door as possible," Sam snapped. "That will be no problem for Dean. He didn't just almost die or anything."

John turned around to fully face Sam. "Take your brother in through the back door. You know the drill. We don't want people seeing us and asking questions."

Sam glared.

"I had better not hear another comment from you, Sam," John said, a sharp edge to his voice. "I mean it."

Sam clamped his mouth shut and climbed out of the car, letting the slam of the car door do the talking for him. He hurried to get Dean out of the car. He helped his brother loop his uninjured arm around Sam's shoulders.

"I'll be right in," John said. "I gotta clean this up first." He gestured towards the car which had hunting equipment still visible in the backseat.

Sam didn't respond.

"Okay, Dad," Dean said.

In the room, Sam lowered Dean on to the bed. Dean flinched as Sam adjusted him up against the headboard.

"That was fun, huh?" Dean said.

"Dean-" Sam started, eyeing Dean's bandaged arm.

Dean sighed. "Can we not do this, Sam? Please? I just wanna celebrate a successful hunt."

Sam scoffed, "Yeah, successful."

Dean looked at Sam pleadingly. Sam swallowed hard at the pained look in his brother's eyes.

"Why do you always take his side, Dean?" Sam's voice cracked a little on his brother's name. "Why do you never stand up to him? You could have died! You're just okay with that? I'm supposed to just be okay with that?"

Dean looked away from Sam, staring at the wall for a few heartbeats before he spoke again. "Sammy, what does making him angry do? You know what he would do if I argued with him. It's better to just leave it alone."

Sam wasn't sure what Dean meant. Their dad had never done anything to Dean after a fight. Sometimes Dean would leave after they argued, but he always came back unscathed. The same hadn't always been true for Sam who was left alone with John when Dean chose to escape. Dean hadn't left in a couple of years. Sam could still remember the night he came home and saw the bruise on Sam's cheek. Sam was sure Dean had felt guilty for leaving. He had seen tears in his brother's eyes as Dean pulled him into a hug and whispered a promise into his hair, "I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. _Ever_."

But Sam had never blamed Dean for needing to get away. Sometimes all Sam wanted to do was run away himself.

"Dean, wh-"

John walked into the room just then. Dean gave Sam one last look. The meaning of the look was clear. _Drop it._

Sam sullenly let the matter go, watching as John carefully stitched Dean up. John laughed when Dean asked for a drink of the whiskey he was using to clean his wound.

"Sure, Dean. I guess hunters grow up faster than other kids."


	3. Chapter 3

_Sam is leaving_. Dean kept repeating that thought in his head. The thought was simple enough, but every time he repeated it, he felt the same agonizing jolt of pain. _Sam is leaving._

Dean had been shocked into silence when Sam revealed his plan. There were no tears, no words. He found himself staring blankly at his brother. _Leaving. For college. Leaving. Without me. **Me. **_And Sam had looked steadily at Dean, eyes pleading. But Dean couldn't give Sam the comfort he was obviously seeking. Anger began to burn through him. _How can he do this? Why would he want to leave us? To leave me?_

And then John had started yelling. Sam gave back as good as he got. Both men bristling, years of building resentment unleashed in a single explosive moment. And for the first time, John and Sam were fighting and Dean didn't want to jump in to defend Sam. All these years he had bit his tongue when what he wanted to do was protect his little brother from their father. But he never stood up to John, as much as it hurt. Because he didn't want to be forced to leave Sam. Didn't Sam know that Dean would rather die than leave him? After all of that, Sam was _choosing _to leave Dean. The thought was ripping Dean's heart to pieces. He almost wanted to yell at Sam himself.

_How could you do this to me?_

Sam was moving towards the door.

"If you walk out that door, you never come back!" John bellowed.

Sam put his hand on the door handle. He turned to look at Dean, but his brother refused to return his gaze. He refused to look at Sam, to see the pain in his eyes. Because maybe he would start to feel bad for Sam. He might start to feel that familiar urge to comfort and protect his brother. As if Sam wasn't choosing to leave them. To leave him. As if Sam wasn't running away from his family.

Sam opened the door and walked out without another word. John stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. Dean sank onto the bed, blinking hard. _Sam is leaving._


	4. Chapter 4

As Dean ran through his plan, Sam felt a sinking feeling growing through him. Dean was calmly explaining everything to his brother, as if he wasn't talking about trapping himself with an angry archangel for eternity.

"That's your plan?" Sam said, disbelief arching his eyebrows. "You want to be… buried alive?"

"Buried's not safe enough," Dean said. "The plan is to pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. _Splash._"

Sam didn't know how to process what his brother was telling him. "You and Michael, trapped. Together. For eternity."

"Yeah," Dean replied. He held Sam's eye contact and raised his chin. Sam could feel Dean defying him to argue.

"You do realize how insane this is, right?" Sam said, the panic he was beginning to feel making him clip the ends off each syllable as he spoke.

"It's the only sane play I've got," Dean said. Sam scowled and Dean continued. "Michael gets out, that's it for this world. And he will get out."

"But how do you know that for sure?"

"Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving – I can feel it giving!"

"There has to be another way," Sam began.

"There's not, okay?" Dean said, cutting off Sam's argument. He blinked a few times and continued. "Sam, you've tried. Cas has tried. Jack. And I love you for trying."

Sam felt frozen in place. Dean's use of "I love you" was setting off alarm bells in his head. Dean was serious about this. Dean was preparing to say goodbye forever.

"But none of it's gonna work," Dean said.

"We don't know that!"

"Yeah, we do," Dean said, certain.

"What?"

"Billie."

"Billie?"

"She paid me a little visit," Dean explained. "She said that there's only one way that this ends right." He placed a fist on the box between him and Sam. A metallic clang accompanied his movement. "And this is it." Sam was shaking his head now. Dean's words were making him feel sick. "This. Right here. This box." Sam dropped the eye contact he had been holding with his brother. His gaze fluttered around the ground as he tried to calm himself. The panic gripping his heart was making it hard to think. But Dean was still talking, his fingers tracing the sigils on the top of the box. "So she gave up the special recipe and all I had to do was the work." Dean's voice was less steady now. "It's fate."

Sam's eyes were wide as he tried to keep away the tears that were threatening to form in them. "Since when do we believe in fate?" He looked at Dean again, clenching his jaw.

"Now, Sam," Dean replied. "Since now."

Sam took a few deep breaths. He was done responding to Dean's explanation for now. He was ready to ask the question that had been burning in his mind. The one thing that was hurting the most. Screw Dean's plan. Sam huffed out an angry breath. "So," he said, "you came out here to see Donna? To see Mom? On some… some what? Some sick, secret farewell tour?" The tears were stinging Sam's eyes now. "You were gonna leave. And you weren't even gonna tell me?" Sam's voice broke on the last word and it came out barely above a whisper. Another angry huff of air. Sam needed to make sure he was getting through to Dean. "_Me_," he repeated.

Dean's gaze was shifting around. But Sam wasn't even close to done. "Do you realize how messed up that is? How _unfair_ that is?"

Sam flinched as Dean's voice broke through his at a yell, "I didn't have a choice!"

Sam scowled and shook his head. _Bull. _Dean wasn't going to get away with leaving him that easily.

Dean's voice was shaking but he kept going. "You were the last person I could tell, the last person I could be around because you were the only one that could've talked me out of it!"

Sam blinked.

"And I won't be talked out of it. I won't. I'm doing this." It was Dean's turn to break eye contact. "Now you can either let me do it alone. Or you could help me."

Sam closed his eyes, a pained noise escaping his throat.

"But I'm doing this," Dean repeated.

Sam was shaking his head again. This was too much. His jaw worked as he tried to hold back a sob. He glanced quickly at Dean and then turned around, hiding his face from his brother. Dean was quiet. He obviously knew Sam needed time to gather himself.

Sam turned around, biting his bottom lip when it shook. "Alright," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was beginning to lose track of how many ways he had said to Dean, "_Please don't do this. Please don't leave me." _They were on the road trip from hell, towing Dean's death box behind the Impala. Sam had agreed to not try to talk Dean out of his plan. But he couldn't help it sometimes. "There has to be another way." Dean always shut him down, eyes steely with resolve. Sam felt like he was imploding, crumbling from the inside out. The only part of him that wasn't shattered completely was the part Dean could see. The brave face he wore as a mask while his heart was being torn away. Didn't Dean know that he would rather die than have his brother leave him?

They had been silent for a long time in the Impala when Dean's voice broke through the tense air filling the car between them. "You ever think about when we were kids?"

"Maybe, sure, sometimes," Sam stammered. "Why?"

Dean hesitated. "I know I wasn't always the greatest brother to you."

Sam scowled. _What?_

"Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother. "You were the one who was always there for me. The only one. I mean, you practically raised me."

"I know things got dicey," Dean said, apparently ignoring Sam's comment. "Y'know, with Dad. The way he was. And I just… I didn't always look out for you the way that I should've."

Sam practically flinched at Dean's words. Of course he knew what Dean was talking about. That night at the motel all those years ago. When Dean had found him with a bruised cheek and the remnants of tears streaked down his face. Dean had left Sam that day. It hadn't been the first time. But that time when Dean left, their dad had hurt Sam in drunken anger.

Now Dean was leaving him again. Sam wasn't sure he could survive another hit without his brother.

"I had my own stuff, y'know," Dean continued. "In order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes when I was - when I was away… you know it wasn't because I just ran out, right?"

Sam looked away, confusion wrinkling his brow.

"Dad would… He would send me away when I really pissed him off. I think you knew that."

_Dad sent Dean away?_ Sam's mind was reeling. He felt emotion welling up in his throat. He wasn't strong enough to think about a revelation from their childhood. Not with Dean's death looming in front of him. "Man, I left that behind a long time ago. I had to." How dare Dean even bring this up right now? Now. When he was going to leave Sam _by choice. _"But if we're going to get through this, I have to do like you said and try to keep my mind off where we're going. So if we could _not _have conversations that sound like deathbed apologies, I would really appreciate it." He let out a stuttering laugh around the lump in his throat.

"Right," Dean replied. "Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean and Sam sat across from each other at a table in the bunker's library. Cas had gone to his room. The angel had been strangely quiet the whole ride home. When they had made it back to the bunker, he had hugged Dean, squeezed Sam's shoulder and left them alone. Dean knew he would need to talk to Cas about not telling him his plan and then trying to leave without saying goodbye. But it could wait until tomorrow. He wasn't sure he could handle another chick-flick moment tonight and he had a feeling that was exactly how his conversation with Cas would go down.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam said.

Dean looked up at his little brother. Sam's eyes were still a little red from crying outside of that hospital. His pleading words were still echoing in Dean's head. _Why don't you believe in us too? _Dean cleared his throat. "Mmm?"

"What you said before," Sam began, voice soft, "about Dad sending you away when we were kids. I, uh, I never knew that."

Dean frowned. Sam wasn't looking at him. He was just twirling the glass of whiskey in front of him. "What?" Dean asked.

"I never knew Dad sent you away," Sam said. He looked up at Dean. "I thought… I guess I thought… well, I didn't know. You were just gone and I –" Sam looked down again, swallowing hard.

Dean could feel his heart shattering again. _Damnit, Sam. So much for no more chick-flick moments tonight. _"Sam," Dean said, voice shaking a little. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He was practically forcing Sam to hold his eye contact by getting closer to him. "You thought I just left you? When you were just a kid? You thought I would leave you alone with Dad _by choice?_" Dean's voice was raising gradually but he couldn't seem to stop it. "Sammy, c'mon." He searched Sam's gaze, trying to read his thoughts. Sam was blinking rapidly. Dean didn't think he could take it if Sam cried again. "Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean. You… you never told me anything. I thought you just needed to get away. I never blamed you." Sam leaned back, pushed his chair back from the table. "Sometimes I wanted to leave too."

Now Dean understood the significance of what Sam was saying. Sam had thought Dean's whole plan to stop Michael was just another opportunity to escape. Sam thought Dean was just leaving him. Like he always had. Dean stood. He turned his back to Sam and scrubbed a hand down his face. The last few days had left him completely drained. Sam had been laying on the puppy dog eyes real heavy lately. And now he was confronting Dean with the worst thing he could imagine. Sam thought that Dean _wanted _to leave him. He thought Dean had _chosen _to leave him. Everything in their crazy, screwed-up lives and Dean had tried so hard to do just one thing. Look out for Sam. He had made Sam a promise when they were kids, "I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. _Ever._" And in that cemetery. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. _I'm not gonna leave you_." But Dean had somehow failed. All of these years and Sam still thought –

Dean turned around and faced Sam. His little brother was staring at the floor, his jaw working the way it did when he was trying to hold back tears. "Sam."

Sam looked up at Dean.

"Sammy, don't you know I would rather die than leave you?"

And then Sam broke down. A sob escaped his throat and he hid has face behind his hands. Dean walked over to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of his chair. He wrapped his arms around his brother and felt Sam tuck his face in against his shoulder. It occurred to Dean that he and Sam had hugged an awful lot recently. But as his brother shook against him - scrunching himself down to fit against Dean despite the height difference – Dean couldn't bring himself to care.


End file.
